


The Act of Tenderness

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: M/M, Tenderness, The inherent eroticism of casual intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Watching Someone Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29532330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: Gil knows he can't stop Malcolm from pushing himself, but he can be there to help chase the nightmares away.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo/Malcolm Bright
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	The Act of Tenderness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gjxsj](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gjxsj).



> I'm only on ep 7 S1 but holy wow batman, i think they're neat. For Hunter! Happy birthday!!

* * *

* * *

“You look like hell, Malcolm. When was the last time you slept?” It was late, but he stepped aside to let him in. Malcolm swayed as he stepped over the threshold, and Gil caught him by the elbow, towing him into the living room and eased Malcolm down into a chair, ignoring the hand waving him off.

“I’m fine, it’s nothing. I slept last night.” But Malcolm closed his eyes, leaning his head back with a sigh.

Gil snorted.

“What, an hour? Two hours? That’s not rest, Mal.”

It was an old debate, worn thin and familiar. Malcolm knew he could win if he really wanted to, and Gil knew if Malcolm was here, looking as worn out as he was, that he didn’t want to win. He just wanted someplace _safe_ , to crash for as long as his shattered nerves would let him.

The dance that went with the argument wasn’t nearly as old, but it was becoming familiar.

Gil tugged the blankets out of the closet, throwing them down on the sofa one by one, and fluffed the thin throw pillows. It didn’t help, but it felt better to do it, gave his hands something to do. Something other than touch his gaunt face, stroke his hair – he worried for him, and these days the urge to reach out and reassure himself that Mal was there, present and fully whole was getting to be more overwhelming.

Gil took a deep, steadying breath.

_It’s inappropriate._

It had started when he’d shown up again, and at first he hadn’t recognized him; Malcolm had been an adult when he’d left, sure, but still such a _kid_. Now he was past thirty, and perhaps it was the gauntness in his face, or the shadows under his eyes, but Gil had a hard time looking in the face of _this_ Malcolm, and seeing the child that had saved his life.

It was causing… _issues_.

He glanced back at Malcolm, half asleep, and looking three quarters dead in his coat and shoes, and rubbed his own eyes tiredly.

It made his heart sore. He wanted to take care of him.

_God only knows someone needs to._

“You can’t sleep like that, Mal. Come on, let me help you.”

Malcolm perked up at his voice, blinking up at him in that same stupor of sleep deprived confusion. Gil just moved Mal as he needed to, tilting him forward with a firm hand on the top of his shoulder, and tugged his jacket down his arms. He left his suit jacket and thick wool jacket draped over the chair, and knelt to undo Malcolm’s shoes, holding each of his too-thin ankles and stripping is socks.

Malcolm wiggled his toes when they were free, sighing contently.

Gil tried to ignore his softening; loosening pose and relaxing tension as comfort overcame whatever nervous energy normally ran his thin limbs. Malcolm lounged in the chair, head back, smiling faintly at him when Gil bent over him to undo his tie.

“Come on now Mal, on the couch. You don’t have to sleep, just lay down.” He coaxed.

He would be out like a light, the moment he was flat, of course.

Malcolm lurched upright, and Gil slid a hand around his back, steadying him. The couch was only two steps away, and Malcolm more fell onto it then sat down, but after picking up his limbs and tucking them under the blanket, Gil took the seat Malcolm’s jacket was draped under.

The light from the hallway caught his eyes, fever bright, and wide open, focused on Gil.

“Promise me you won’t leave.” whispered Malcolm.

Gil nodded. “I promise.”


End file.
